First and Foremost a Scientist
by Shellyluvstoread
Summary: Some Becky/Jon drabble I did while I had nothing else to do. Let me know what you think, constructive criticism appreciated since I am a bit rusty


Jonathan ran his eyes over the faint shadows in the darkness of their bedroom. Becky had long since gone to sleep, he had made quite sure of that. He didn't know how she would react to seeing what he did during the nights that nothing could make him go to sleep.

Moving very slowly, he reached an arm under the bed to pull up a sketchbook. This thing never saw the light of day, it was by no means a journal. Jonathan Crane didn't write down his thoughts in a notebook like some silly thirteen year old girl. He did, however, allow himself to draw them.

The first few pages looked like doodles from Tim Burton's mind, all grinning pumpkins and spindly silhouettes without names. Then the simple sketches turned into more detailed nature scenes, like an autumn day in the Gotham City park. And at the very back with his most secret drawings of...her. Some of them came from memory, others from nights like these.

Looking up, the only thing he could make out was the curve of the sheets draped around her sleeping body, but that was enough. Everything was in the perfect light for him, he wasn't exactly used to the bright lights of an artist studio. First and foremost; he was a scientist. By no means would that label turn into "artist." He needed the smell of chemicals in the air around him, maybe a few screams piercing his ears every now and then, the scratch of ropes being tied to restrain a subject.

But the nights when he felt it was just not the time to scribble down equations, to lay still, there was nothing Jonathan liked better than drawing his had gotten so used to her figure, it was the easiest thing for him to draw. Maybe it was the slope of her shoulders that tapered off into the magnificent mane of red hair spread out on her pillow.

He sat back and went rigid when the bed squeaked, his heart fluttering as she shifted onto her back. An arm draped across her eyes in a motion to shield her vision from the small amount of light coming from the cracked window.

Jon settled back and began swiping the edges of her arm, her curve, the small nose that peeked out from under the crook of her elbow. Before he forgot, he added the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. He could never forget them.

Her mouth came next, lips parted slightly to let the small breaths whistle through them. As he finished up on the face, a long finger came out to shade in the edges of the shadows cast in the sheets.

In fifteen minutes he looked back and erased a few stray edges he had missed, a rush of pride straightening his back.

Maybe he was by no means an artist, but this relaxed him when even she couldn't. There was always the protectiveness that came along with the pride of finishing a new drawing. It was most likely recycled from days they went out. They were a rare sight to come out of the house, but it happened. Walking down the street he could feel people's eyes, men, who looked her up and down. The lust and jealousy in their eyes gave him the same feeling and only intensified his instinct that she was his and if someone touched her, there would be hell to pay.

He flipped back through the earlier drawings of her and saw a few he had plucked from his memory of them ice skating around the holidays. She had insisted on going out and having fun no matter how much he had wanted to stay inside and surround himself with foul smells from his laboratory while drinking black coffee. Grumbling the entire way, he had followed her out and watched her rent ice skates. She had apparently done this before, because when she stepped out on the ice she didn't miss a motion. Jonathan, growing up in Georgia had hardly ever seen a lake entirely frozen over, much less a fake one. There was nothing to be done for his wobbling, and so he preferred to stick to the outside of the rink where there was a firm handhold. After five minutes of sulking and scaring eight year olds away from him, Becky finally came over and held his hand, teaching him to "step, step, glide". But the look on her face when she went away to let him practice was one he hadn't seen before.

She looked truly happy, free with her hair streaming behind her as she raced around like a woman possessed. Maybe the motion helped her bad leg, he had no idea how one could skate with a cane anyway.

They finally trudged out, both huffing and ready for hot chocolate when they got home, however all Jonathan could think about was getting that sparkle in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks preserved on paper.

He ran his hands across the picture while remembering. That had to have been his favorite Christmas memory.


End file.
